Christmas Miracle
by Julie Verne
Summary: Leslie needs Ann's help to throw over the usurping rule of the choral society. Femslash. Not as Christmasy as the title implies.


Author's note: Season 2-ish

* * *

Ann Perkins was rarely surprised by Leslie anymore. So it was even more astounding when Leslie appeared at her door at 9 pm one night, hair slicked back, dressed in leather and speaking in those staccato sentences she used if she had coffee after 6 pm. That she knew this about Leslie didn't surprise her either; Leslie often showed up at her door at this time of night with some hair-brained scheme or other to make the town better. But when she started listening, she was surprised after all.

"So I need you to dress up classy, and then I'll win the gays over. And once I have them in my pocket, the choral society will no longer stand in my way! You see how it works, don't you, my innocent autumn faun?"

Ann didn't, not really; Leslie always assumed she understood but she rarely did. She went along with all the crazy shenanigans because an outing with a caffeine-crazed Leslie was far better than another night home alone.

So Ann nodded and put a nice dress on, but not too nice, because she might have to run from irate town-folk again. It was strange, the way she now bought dresses for their ability to allow her to run at speed rather than how they looked.

Well, a little of both. It was always nice to look good while running from crazed citizens.

"So you want me to pretend to be your girlfriend?" Ann questioned Leslie. "It won't work any other way?"

"No, we have to lull them into a false sense of security then BAM!"

"BAM what?" Ann asked.

"BAM, we're in charge of the choral society and can run the Christmas show however we want." Ann must have looked dubious because Leslie stepped forward and took one of her hands in her own. "There's no one I trust but you to back me up on this mission." And Leslie looked so serious than Ann smiled and nodded, the way she always did when she was confronted with that look on Leslie's face, the way she always did when Leslie's thumb brushed her knuckles.

* * *

They stopped at the door of The Bulge. Leslie turned to face Ann. It was the first time Ann had seen the usually supremely confident Leslie waver.

"Are you sure? We could probably find another way to do this…" Leslie started, but Ann cut her off.

"We're here now. Let's just… get this over with." And with that Ann pushed the door open, not noticing the crestfallen look on Leslie's face. But when Leslie extended an elbow toward her, she slipped her hand into the crook of it. Ann was surprised how nice the leather felt under her fingers.

* * *

Ann watched Leslie get lifted onto the shoulders of some burly men wearing very little clothing and thought that she should be enjoying the bodies on display so much more than the pleased look on Leslie's face.

"You're pretty lucky, you know," Ann turned to find an attractive woman speaking to her. Ann inclined her head and the woman repeated herself, indicating towards Leslie. It took a minute to realize that Leslie's ploy had worked; that this woman thought she was Leslie's girlfriend, and that this woman that thought she was Leslie's girlfriend also thought she was lucky to be with Leslie.

"Oh. Yeah. I know." Ann said when she deciphered the sentence over the roar of the club. She nodded, just to make sure the other woman had heard her and they ended up nodding awkwardly at each other for some time.

"Ann! My delightful gay partner that I'm very much in gay with!" Leslie yelled, and Ann prepared herself for the incoming bone-crushing hug that was bound to ensue, that ensued every single time Ann started talking to anyone even remotely attractive when Leslie was around. It didn't come. Ann had braced for nothing.

Or so she thought, up until Leslie's mouth pressed up against hers, the taste of Snake Juice overpowering Ann's senses long enough that when she realized Leslie was kissing her, she was already kissing back, tongue running over Leslie's teeth like John EchoHawk exploring his territory.

"You taste like waffles," Leslie said breathlessly when she pulled back. Ann ducked forward and kissed her again because a statement like that from Leslie was a compliment of the highest order. And actually, it was Leslie that tasted like waffles, and then people were cheering all around them and Leslie put her hands on Ann's hips and gave her a look that let her know that all this was part of Leslie's plan.

Ann didn't even care, because there was something about the way Leslie's tongue, always so active, slowed down in her mouth. There was something about all those affectionate names Leslie always called her that let her see this coming. There was something about the way Leslie was looking at her, the way her face was getting closer, the way her lips were impossibly soft and sweet that Ann didn't care that their first (and now, right now, second) kiss was witnessed by the entire gay community of Pawnee.

It was kind of perfect, really, the way the cheering faded into the background as Leslie's thumbs brushed the front of Ann's hipbones just the way they brushed her knuckles.

And that was when Ann knew that whatever the future held, as long as Leslie was it in, it would all be as wonderful as this moment.

* * *

The choral society never did relinquish control of the Christmas pageant, but Leslie found she didn't mind so much after all. Sitting on a blanket under the stars, holding a candle in one hand, other arm wrapped around the waist of her beautiful Christmas miracle, small things like local council didn't seem all that important.


End file.
